


Elseworlds: Endgame Edition

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doubles, F/M, Multi, Steggy baby, Steve Sandwich, endgame shenanigans, with a peggy filling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: There are 14,000,604 other possible outcomes.  This is one of them.Endgame Steve gets stuck in an alternate timeline where his double and Peggy were both part of Project Rebirth.  And the serum made them both evil.Chapters have been reordered so they're chronological.





	1. Peggy's birthday, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachlovesligers asked for more info on how Peggy's birthday went down ...

His other self tries to swipe the crystal tumbler out of his hand, but Steve evades him, gripping the cup securely.

The other Steve snorts.  “We can’t get drunk anyway.  I don’t know why you bothered.”

As usual, it’s all bluster.  Steve can smell the alcohol wafting off his evil other self from where he is.  Clearly his double has given it his all in his search for a bit of oblivion. He probably only succeeded in giving himself a headache.  The double isn’t any more excited about what’s going to transpire than Steve is.

Steve, however, has succeeded where his lesser self has failed.  “It ‘sasgardian mead,” he slurs. “Could get Banner wasted.” He laughs.

The double frowns.  “Who the fuck is Banner?”  He waits, but receives no answer.  “You really are drunk.” His brow furrows.  “How the hell did you manage to get drunk?”

“Held out my hand for four days, waiting,” Steve slurs sagely.  “Was worth it.”

The double shakes his head, glowering.  “You are so fucking strange. I have no idea why she thinks this is a good idea.”

Steve just giggles.  Was he supposed to make himself known to Thor by summoning mjolnir across the universe?  Probably not. But what does Steve care? At this point everything has gone sideways so hard that he’s given up trying to minimize his footprint.  Peggy’s alive, but well and truly evil. Despicable, really. But also, somehow, still  _ Peggy _ .  It makes Steve’s head hurt - and his heart.  

As for his other self, that guy can go fuck himself.

Steve laughs.

As it turns out, his double is going to have a chance to fuck himself rather soon.  Okay, maybe not fuck himself. But fucking adjacent. Steve has no intention of literally fucking himself.

But, it’s Peggy’s birthday, and she wants what she terms ‘a Steve sandwich’.

Steve loathes the idea.

As does his double.

And yet, here they are.

Taking pity on his evil self, Steve holds out the tumbler of blue liquid.

His double is understandably wary, but obviously desperate.  He takes the glass and sniffs it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Space,” Steve says, offering no further explanation.

The double rolls his eyes, but downs the contents of the glass in one swallow.  He spends the next five minutes coughing. “Holy shit.”

The double slumps down onto the couch next to Steve.  “How long does this stuff last?”

“‘Bout three days.”

“Fantastic,” the double says seriously.

 

* * *

 

“I swear to God, if you two are too drunk to get it up, I’m going to kill you both.”

“Ah, hey, baby, there you are,” the double says.

“Happy birthday,” Steve adds. “Don worry.  We’re super human.”

She looks angry.  She turns toward the bedroom, muttering, “Is it too much to ask that you two get it together enough to fuck me on my birthday?”

“Honestly, yes,” the double says, too quietly for Peggy to hear.

“I know, right?” Steve replies in a whisper.  “I hate this.”

The double looks at him.  “So this stuff doesn’t cause ... performance issues?”

Steve shrugs.  “I don’t fucking know.  Last time I had some, I was playing pool with a bunch of geriatric war vets.  It didn’t come up.” He snort laughs.

The double sighs, pushing himself off the couch.  “Only one way to find out.” He walks toward the bedroom.

 

END FICLET


	2. Two Steves Walk Into a Bar

Steve looks up as his other self slides onto the bar stool next to him.  The newcomer motions to the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having,” he says, nodding to Steve.

They sit in silence for at least a quarter of an hour, nursing their bourbons.

“She’s being indicted,” Steve says.  “According to Hill.”

The other Steve snorts.  “It’ll never stick, Golden Boy,” he says derisively.  “It never does. Even you should know that by now.”

Steve takes another drink.  Yeah, fair enough. The Peggy Carter in this god forsaken universe may not be the woman he knows, but she’s every bit as much the formidable strategist.  If she doesn’t already have a way out, she’ll buy off the judge, or have him killed. Neither is out of the norm for her.

He looks at his other self.  “Why aren’t you caught up in this?”  Peggy and the other Steve have had nearly eighty years of doing evil shit together.  Surely there’s dirt on him too.

Shrugging, he says, “I keep my business interests separate.  She takes a lot of high risk odds. I prefer to be more cautious.”

It is, objectively, an absurd statement.  There is absolutely nothing cautious about the Steve Rogers from this universe.  Whatever the difference was in Erskine’s serum in this world, its effects were immense.  This Steve is every bit as twisted as the Red Skull was. He’s a vicious, narcissistic asshole.  Peggy Carter isn’t any better. If anything, she’s worse. Steve Rogers is a brute. But Peggy is a sadist.

It’s as depressing a realization as Steve has had in a while.

“I’m going to have to kill you, you know,” the other Steve says, glancing at him.

“Oh?” Steve asks, unconcerned.  Some days it would be a blessing if he would.  “She’s not supposed to get upset,” he says quietly.  “Blood pressure and the like.” He sighs. “And I’m pretty sure that would upset her.”  He looks at his double. “Not that you could, you know, kill me. But it would upset her if you tried.”

The other Steve makes an irritated sound.  “Her pregnancy is not your concern,” he snaps.  “It’s not your kid.”

Steve shrugs and motions to the bartender to pour another round.  “We were both there. You know as well as I do that it’s at best a fifty fifty chance.”

“That wasn’t the only night, Opie.  She and I have been together for decades.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been sleeping with her too,” Steve says flatly.  He’s not proud of that fact, but it is a fact regardless. “She doesn’t even know whose it is.  You sure as hell don’t either.”

 

END FICLET


	3. Mr Rogers and the other one

_ We just pulled Rumlow’s body out of the Potomac. _

Peggy curses and puts the phone down.  She motions to the girl for the check.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

She looks across the table at him.  Mr. Rogers. That’s how she thinks of him in her mind.  She only ever calls him  _ Steve, _ because that is his name.  But he is Mr. Rogers in so many hugely irritating ways.  Good to the core. Nauseatingly earnest. Tedious. “Nothing I can’t take care of,” she replies briskly.

He frowns, his brows pulling together.  “The doctor said - “

“That I’m fine,” she says, cutting across him.  It’s true. The issues she had early in her pregnancy seem to be largely resolved.  Though if there has ever been a geriatric pregnancy, this is certainly it. More than a hundred years old and she’s fucking gestating.  It’s absurd. She wonders if it’s worth the trouble.

Mr. Rogers’ frown intensifies, but he doesn’t say anything.  He often doesn’t say anything. In sharp contrast to  _ her _ Steve, who runs his mouth all the fucking time.  And when that doesn’t have the desired effect, Steve moves on to murdering her more reliable associates and dumping their bodies in the river.

She leaves without giving Mr. Rogers any more explanation.  She texts Steve on her way over, informing him he better be at his place.  He’ll be there. He’s been spoiling for a fight ever since she informed him she was pregnant.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s place is a wreck.  Trash and dirty clothes are strewn around.  There’s evidence he’s been spite screwing the masses.  She steps around the piles of debris carefully.

He’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  All he’s wearing are a pair of boxer briefs. There are scratch marks visible on his back.

“Did Rumlow give you those?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

He glances at her, lips in a tight smile, ignoring the implied barb.  “Nah,” he says, “Rumlow went down so easy.”

Peggy has never been patient, and she is absolutely done with him at this point.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, taking a drink of his coffee.

“It’s clear you want my attention,” she snaps.  “Now you have it. What. Is. Your. Problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” he says, his voice controlled.  But he stalks out of the kitchen toward her. He’s always been a shitty liar.  He’s no better at it than Mr. Rogers. Steve’s body language always gives him away.  “Honestly, I wasn’t even sure you’d notice Rumlow was missing. You seem pretty wrapped up in hanging out with the golden boy.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Is that what this is about?  Petty jealousy? We’ve both fucked other people.  For nearly a century. Why do you have such a bug up your ass about this now?”

“Because, Peg,” he yells, slamming the coffee down onto the end table, “you’ve never had one until now.”

She frowns, confused, irritated, and exhausted.

“The parasite,” he snarls, motioning toward her midsection.  “Eighty years and you’ve always gotten rid of them. And now that asshole shows up and suddenly you’ve decided you want to be a mother.  Because of  _ him.” _

Comprehension finally dawns.  “ _ Oh _ ,” she says quietly.

Her response makes him angier.  He paces like a caged animal, muscles straining.  She tries to ignore how much she likes that.

“ _ Steve _ ,” she says quietly, stepping closer to him.

He stops, watching her, frowning, jaw tight, head slightly lowered.

“ _ Steve _ ,” she says again, reaching out and gently cupping his face in her hands.  He’s breathing hard, and she can feel his jaw trembling.

“Steve, you - “ she pulls back and slaps him as hard as she can across, the face, sending him stumbling “ _ fucking idiot _ .”

He falls on his ass, and sits there, staring up at her, nearly growling.

“I swear to god, between you and Mr. Rogers, the idiot twins.  I’m going to kill you both and have this kid by myself.”

He snarls.

“It’s not his kid, you moron,” she yells.  She stops, and then shrugs. “Well, I guess it could be.  I don’t honestly which which one of you is the father.” She narrows her eyes at him.  “Not that it matters.” 

That’s technically a lie.  She knows exactly which one of them is the father of the child she’s carrying.  But all the genetic testing in the world isn’t going to clear it up one bit, and she intends to take that secret to her grave.

“Eighty years, Peg,” he yells, pushing himself to his feet.  “Eighty fucking years and you wait until that mopey asshole shows up to decide to have a kid.  I’m not an idiot.”

She shakes her head.  “Have you even noticed the way he looks at me?”

“I try not to,” he sneers.

“Maybe you should pay attention,” she says.  “Because it took me about ten minutes to figure out why Erskine’s good man wants to fuck me.”

Steve shrugs.  “He’s boring, not blind.  Of course he wants to fuck you.”

She rolls her eyes.  “She’s dead,” she says flatly.

“Who?”

“His Peggy.  She’s dead.”

Steve stands there, shifting his weight back and forth, brow furrowed.  He clearly had never considered that, and he does not like the idea one bit.  “How do you know?”

“I asked him,” she says, calmer.  “She died. He was a pallbearer at her funeral.”

Steve frowns again.

She steps closer to him.  He watches her warily, but he doesn’t retreat.

“It’s not  _ him _ ,” she says quietly.  “It’s what he represents.  You’re right. We’ve had eighty years of fighting and fucking.  But the fact that he’s here proves that it isn’t a given that we’ll go on forever.”  She takes a deep breath. “I could lose you,” she says. “I could be like him. Adrift.  Without  _ my _ Steve.”  For as much as he makes her insane, her words are absolutely true.  Steve has been her right partner since the beginning. 

Clearly, he likes this interpretation of recent events.  He reaches out and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close.  He nuzzles into the space beneath her ear.

“ _ That _ is why I decided to have this one,” she says.  “Not because I want a child with him. Because I want  _ us _ to have a future.  Even if the unthinkable happens.”

“I love you, Peggy.”  She can feel it more than hear it.

She kisses the edge of his jaw.  “I know.”

 

END SECTION


End file.
